The Weenus Game
by Cackling Grackle
Summary: The nations enter a whole new kind of war, trapping them in a building with no way out. Oneshot


If there was one thing Germany hated it was when Italy turned off his alarm clock. He could never figure out when he did it and never figure out why (something about the noise) and he had absolutely no idea how the smaller man had woken up before him. When Germany had woken up that morning Italy was already gone and so was Prussia despite his adamant rule about not getting up before one in the afternoon.

It was eleven when Germany had woken up making him unbearably late for the day's meeting. He forced himself to eat quickly and then left the hotel, climbing into a taxi and directing it towards the meeting hall. When he finally arrived at half past eleven his knee was actually shaking from arriving so far into the meeting. Every car he passed in the parking lot only made him feel worse, especially at the prospect of being mocked by his brother for his breach in punctuality.

Fortunately the hallway was empty. As he walked he straightened his tie a dozen times and smoothed his hair back two dozen times. Many of the lights in the hallway were out giving the hall an eerie grey feeling and nipped at Germany's nerves. He wondered briefly if someone had been messing with the wiring. Probably Sealand that pesky little micro-nation. Or more likely America, trying his hand at fixing a perfectly good circuit in order to make himself their hero. Whatever it was, Germany would have to worry about it later. Right now he had more important things on his mind like a meeting that had been in progress for a good two and a half hours.

Now that he thought about it his absence so far was probably more of a burden to them than to himself. Being the only actually mature nation in this day and age Germany had always been the one to break up fights and get the meeting on track. He shuddered to think what might have happened without him to get everyone to quiet down. He wouldn't be surprised if they were in a full-blown war by now. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if they had all killed each other.

He laughed quietly at the absurd idea as he pushed open the door to the room they were supposed to be meeting in, but stopped when he looked inside. Instead of the suspected ruckus of a meeting gone wild Germany found dead silence. And no wonder it was so quiet: the room was empty.

Though empty the room had definitely been used. Several chairs had been pushed into a circle next to the near wall and a couple of others had been pushed over in what appeared to be a struggle. The whiteboard on the far wall had the beginnings of a proper chart on it, but the lines had dissolved into a series of increasingly rude remarks about different nations' mothers. Across the board, however, written in bright red marker underneath "The Rules" were the words "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF".

A small shiver went up Germany's spine at the words. Oh God, did they actually kill each other? The notion was funny before, but seriously, he wouldn't put it past them. Just to make sure this wasn't the wrong room, Germany turned around to head back down the hall. Surely they were somewhere else. He was fairly certain they were the only ones in the giant building that day, but he had been wrong before.

But when he turned around he was met by the surprised face of Spain. The man was crouched down next to Germany's arm, his head slightly tilted and his tongue sticking out. Both of them started and jerked back, Germany into the room a few steps and Spain knocking himself off balance and falling on his back. Without wasting a stunned second the Spanish nation leapt up off the floor and sprinted down the hall and out of sight. Germany stepped out into the hall quickly and watched him go, face and mind a mixture of confusion, disgust and fear at what Spain had intended to do.

"Sh*t, that was close!"

Germany started at the voice, but before he could say anything in return Prussia burst out of a door from across the hall, grabbed his brother by the arm and bolted. They reached an open door and after checking the room thoroughly the older of the brothers shoved the younger in, closed the door and laughed to himself. The room they had taken refuge in was another meeting room. The table was significantly smaller and the place looked untouched with every chair in its place and the whiteboard shining in the light that strayed through the blinds.

Prussia shook his head, still smiling to himself as he leaned his back against the door and chuckling like he couldn't believe he was still alive. His jacket and shirt were gone – or maybe they had never been there? – leaving him in only his undershirt, which was stained with sweat. His cheeks, usually a ghostly white, were flushed red from running and dripping with sweat. Whatever was going on here this nation had been at it for a good long time already.

"What the hell," Germany started, sitting down in one of the chairs, "is going on?"

Prussia stopped laughing. He looked up at Germany, his eyes wide with wonder. "You mean you don't know?"

"No."

"How can you not know? How can you be so innocent?"

"Can we cut the drama?" Germany asked. His patience was wearing thin. "What has been going on here? Where is everybody?"

"God, who knows what happened to the others." He pulled a chocolate bar out of his pants pocket and began to meticulously unwrap it. "I was separated from most of them at the beginning and I lost France about an hour ago. Haven't seen much of anyone since." He took a bite and frowned at how melted it was.

"When what began? Gottverdamt, just tell me!"

"All right, all right." Prussia held up his empty hand to keep his brother calm. "Late last night a bunch of us got an email from America. It told us to get here early and gave us specific instructions not to tell you."

"Me?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? He figured you wouldn't approve and so did the rest of us so we kept you out of it. We even made Italy turn off your alarm clock so you wouldn't get up in time." He sighed and shook his head. "It's all America's fault. If he hadn't told us all about it we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Just get on with it!"

"Okay, hold up." Prussia crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it expertly into the garbage can across the room from them. "As I was saying before I was interrupted," he continued, "the email also said to wear short sleeves. A bunch of us didn't listen because, well, why would we? That is, of course, why I am only wearing my f*cking undershirt. They made me get rid of everything else. I think Austria hid all the shirts somewhere. We'll never find them."

"Why would you need short sleeves?"

"I'm getting there. So we all show up early, like he said to and when we get in we realize only about twenty of us actually got the email. America told us all to gather round and we all pulled up our chairs. Except England. He wasn't even invited. Turns out he's here early every meeting, but anyways we all took our chairs and sat in a circle around him. We had no idea what we were in for."

~ o ~

"Alright! Alright! Gather around everyone! Gather around!"

"Would you shut up, you twat?" England called from his spot at the whiteboard. "We can all hear you just fine without you shouting like a lunatic!"

"Whatever, Iggy. You're just upset because you weren't invited!" America retorted.

The Brit rolled his eyes and turned back to the board to continue drawing his chart. "If you think I want to be a part of this ridiculous mess you really are a lunatic."

America pretended not to hear and turned his attention to the gathering crowd. A majority of the group pulled up chairs to get a better spot and hear what he had to say. Many of them, who really couldn't care less and had no idea why they had been chosen, preferred to sit on the other side of the table or lean against the walls. America himself had settled himself in a chair against next to the wall and was waiting eagerly for the others to settle down.

"Now," he said when they had all quieted down. "Hold onto your hats because I have an idea that will revolutionize warfare."

"Is that why we're here?" asked Spain with disappointment.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this," Austria muttered.

"Shut up, both of you. This is important. Not only will it revolutionize war, but make it in such a way that no one will ever need to be shot or maimed or stabbed or gutted or bludgeoned or run-through or cut open or in any way die on the front line for their country ever again." America paused, looking around at the others' blank faces. "It's called," he said, "the weenus game."

"Sounds kinky," said France.

"No," America shook his head. "Not at all. Well… not really. I mean not if you're not into that sort of thing I guess."

"Could you please just tell us what it is so we can get on with our lives?" England called.

"Okay. No matter what you might be thinking this game is not the least bit sex related. In fact, it's outright disgusting and that's what makes it awesome." A couple of the others were beginning to show interest, but most of them still looked bored out of their minds. "The point of the game," he continued, "is to lick a person's weenus."

A hand went up in the crowd. "What's a weenus?" asked Italy.

"According to the tweet I found out this game from it is the skin on the end of your elbow right here." He brought up a bent arm and tapped the calloused skin on his elbow. "The point of the game is to lick everyone else's weenuses. The cool thing is that if you do it right the person will never feel it."

"What are the rules?"

"Lick any weenus any time any place. It doesn't matter how you do it or if they notice, just lick their elbow."

A snicker went up among the nations in the circle. They all grinned and several tried to cover it up with their hands. "I know, right?" America said, laughing himself. "It's awesome, am I right?"

England turned around and stopped dead. He held back a grin and choked down a laugh. "Erm, America?"

"What?"

"I think you'd better turn around."

He did. And there was Prussia, his tongue out and sliding slowly up America's left elbow. He finished and stood up. "Gotcha." America looked stunned as he felt his elbows. Both were wet and he hadn't felt a thing.

"Oh," he said. "You wanna start this? You really wanna go there? Because I will take you down, believe me."

"Oh, I have a hard time believing people who can't even tell when their weenus has been licked."

America stood up and stormed past the hoard that had gathered around him over to the whiteboard. He grabbed a red marker and shoved England out of the way despite the smaller man's protests. With a look of determination the American removed the cap and wrote "The Rules" on the board. "You want to know the rules? Well here are the rules." He wrote large and sharply, making the board squeek loudly. When he was done he underlined the words twice and turned back to the rest of them. "Every man for himself," he said and so did the board.

"So everyone take off your shirts. The game has begun!"

~ o ~

"After that there was chaos. We turned on each other like animals. There was no escape; he had the doors locked from the outside. I managed to escape any serious attacks by putting soap on my elbows, the stuff deters most of them if they have any taste buds. We were allowed to form alliances, but they broke up within the first few minutes when people started assassinating their team members."

Germany frowned. "This is all over a game? Why doesn't it just end?"

"The weenus game never ends," Prussia said, dead serious.

"There must be some winner. What's the method of point tracking?"

"There isn't one. We just keep playing until everyone has dropped out and there's only one person left. Those who do return to the meeting room and everyone else keeps going. So far no one has dropped out."

A feeling of dread filled Germany's veins. If what Prussia said was true then that meant that he was trapped in there as well. None of the nations would dare drop out, their egos couldn't tolerate it. No, this game was much more serious than he had ever imagined. This was a fight to the death in which no one ever died. This could go on forever.

There was only one option. Working quickly Germany pulled off his jacket and dress shirt leaving on only his white t-shirt. He got up and walked swiftly to the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall. He took a squirt in each hand and rubbed each handful on the opposite elbow, blending it into an invisible shield.

"What are you doing?" Prussia asked. "You can't enter the game, you'll never get out!"

"Maybe so," Germany agreed. "But at least this way I can get back at the others for all the headaches they've put me through."

Prussia smiled darkly. "So you're in?"

"Oh," Germany said, voice full of deadly joy, "I'm in."

For the next two days the fight continued. Germany proved himself on multiple occasions to be the biggest BAMF the others had ever had the honour of knowing. No one dropped out. The fight only ended when Canada entered the building (everyone had forgotten to tell him the meeting had been moved ahead two days) opening the door and letting the others out for the first time since the game began.

The sunlight was warm and a bright change from the eerie atmosphere (skillfully arranged by America) of the building. They all rejoiced and when home early, much to the confusion of Canada who never did find out what happened those days. Though to the others it would be a legend passed from nation to nation and would forever be the reason they always wore long sleeves to meetings.

The end.

A dramatization of my experiences with the weenus game. Most of it is an extreme exaggeration on my experiences in the music department of my school and the middle part was an extended version of my experiences with my theatre group (with me as America and which really did end up qualifying as warfare).

Thank you for reading and I hope you have as much fun with the weenus game as I and the nations have. Good day, please review and read my other stuff.

CG out. PEACE.

P.S. Hetalia does not belong to me.


End file.
